


World's Best Wingman

by innie



Series: Portfolio [1]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: AU, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:15:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22139914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/innie/pseuds/innie
Summary: Harry would be an extraordinary wingman, he was sure; he'd never got the opportunity to try it out, but how hard could it be?
Relationships: Harry Hart | Galahad & Merlin, Merlin & Lee Unwin, Merlin/Gary "Eggsy" Unwin
Series: Portfolio [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1599244
Comments: 14
Kudos: 96
Collections: 2019 Kingsman Stocking Stuffers





	World's Best Wingman

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elrhiarhodan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elrhiarhodan/gifts).



> There was so much I thought of that didn't make it into this fic! If only I didn't have to go to work tomorrow and could just spend the night writing.

At least, Harry thought sourly, they'd been spared the presence of Chester King this time. He'd happily — well, scratch that; he could make it to _uncomplainingly_ if not _happily_ — unpin all of the jackets and shirts that the pillock's grandson wore as a trade-off for not having to see his rancid old face. 

Charles, meanwhile, seemed to have decided that his grandfather's policy of trying to keep Harry happy was a miscalculation — only a nitwit like Charles Hesketh would ignore the designer of the haute couture he was modelling — and was trying his best to insinuate himself into Merlin's space, good graces, and even affections. There was no reason for him not to try; Harry was of course biased but it had to be plain even to the meanest intelligence (read: Charles's) that Merlin was not only the photographer with the most unerring eye in the world but also a catch on a personal level (though the jumpers really should all be burnt as a sacrificial offering some Bonfire Night). Still, Harry knew exactly how little Merlin thought of Charles and decided to treat the whole thing as a spectator sport. He only wished he had some popcorn.

"Aren't you done yet?" Charles grumbled as Harry deftly removed the clips needed to create sharp lines when Charles's so-called musculature proved unequal to the task.

"These adjustments are only necessary because your measurements were stated incorrectly . . . again. We have had to compensate for the narrowness of your chest and the slope of your shoulders." It was a positive pleasure to speak his mind to the silly twat; Merlin had more decorum, but Harry believed in taking his pleasures where he found them, and his history was all the more colourful for it. How else could he have ended up naked, on his back, with the Princess of Sweden riding him for all she was worth, wearing only her crown? What a delightful romp that had been; Tilde was all sparkling charm and frank sexuality and great flexibility.

He had enough sense to let go before Charles turned to deliver his next angry words, as he didn't want the fabric to tear. "Just because you can't make clothes that fit a real man," Charles spit out, and Harry laughed in his face. He was so tired of the little pissant, and pleased that his contract was up with this shoot.

"Merlin," Charles said, crossing to him half-dressed, "do I look too, too ridiculous?" Charles actually had the audacity to put a hand over Merlin's when Merlin was busy tinkering with his lenses and then, Harry saw, Charles attempted an up-from-under look at the photographer.

"No," Merlin said shortly, shaking off Charles's insinuating hand by turning and stowing his equipment neatly away. Just as Charles was preening, he continued, "Harry's clothes always look impeccable." He got out the tablet where he kept all the details of his shoots and began to review the files, and Charles, unaccustomed to being brushed off, went a dull red.

"Just get these stupid togs off me," Charles muttered, working on the buttons of his trousers.

"Gladly," Harry said, and obliged.

*

"Merlin," he sing-songed when the echoes of the door's slamming were still resounding through the studio, "tell me, how did you keep from succumbing when he gave you that sultry look? I have it on Charles's own authority that he's irresistible."

"That cross-eyed berk," Merlin muttered, tapping away at his tablet. "Harry, did you put another shoot on my schedule? You know I don't like to book sessions back-to-back."

"No," Harry said, surprised. "I know better than to touch your precious tablet."

"It's not the tablet," Merlin said, exasperated, and Harry sensed another long lecture coming up on the wonders of technology, which he decided to tune out in favour of reorganising the props used for Charles's shoot.

He was removing the frock he'd designed as a birthday present for Roxy from the rumpled bed when it hit him. "It was Roxy," he told Merlin, who looked resigned; the pair of them, as well as Roxy's actual uncle, Michael, were all wrapped around her well-manicured finger. "What's the name on the shoot?"

"It says it's for your Autumn collection, and the model's name is" — it looked like he was making the gesture that would increase the size of the font — "Eggsy?"

"That doesn't sound right," Harry rebutted.

"It's implausible, certainly, but not more so than 'Merlin,'" Merlin said calmly.

He was a little taken aback by the reminder; Merlin had been a fixture in his life for decades now, always in those same abominable jumpers and with that same improbable name, and Harry could no more conceive of a future without him than he could canter around the studio like his namesake animal. Before he could say anything else, there was a knock at the door.

He and Merlin raised their eyebrows at each other. His terrible curls had a propensity to dip low over his forehead, which would have the effect of making his rather sparse eyebrows look like they were disappearing when they rose high enough, but Merlin's were firm slashes that climbed his face like eager mountaineers. "Come in!" Harry called once it became clear Merlin was content to sit in a dignified silence.

A young man in athletic wear came through the door. Harry got a little excited — yes, the man had pleasing features, but the proportions of him were magnificent: those thighs and that jawline were like something out of Ancient Greece (Catullus would have had all the inspiration he needed for epics of outstanding prurience), and his shoulders were straight and broad, tapering to a waist that Harry was sure he could span with his hands. This was the figure he designed for, that would show off his Autumn collection to its utmost advantage. And — he checked the man's face, seeing eyes of jade and a mouth that looked like coral — Merlin wouldn't have to smear the lens with Vaseline to make him look good. Wherever Roxy had dug this one up, she'd done well.

"Hi," the man said, offering his hand to Harry. "I'm Eggsy."

Eggsy's hand was smaller than his and his grip was pleasantly firm and professional. Harry studied his back, swathed in a forest-green jumper, as he turned to hold his hand out to Merlin. Yes, this Eggsy would do very well indeed. He could see Merlin's face brighten as he took in the perfect symmetry of the man's features and knew that if the day's session went well, a contract might well be in the offing, regardless of the agony they'd endured in fulfilling Charles's, which had been a favour gone sadly awry.

"Harry," he heard, breaking his reverie, "a word? Just a moment, lad." Merlin beckoned him sharply, and Harry, much as he deplored being treated as Merlin's Mr. Pickle, nevertheless obeyed. Huddled close, Merlin breathed, "I know him."

"What? Have you been on the pull — without me?" Harry said, indignantly. "You should have told me you like them young and pretty and wholesome. He looks like a milk advert, with that blinding smile and cosy jumper. Is that it — is it _jumper loooove_?"

Merlin didn't crack a smile at the cooing. "I know him because I was his father's partner. Back then."

"Oh." Harry sobered up with astonishing rapidity. Merlin never talked much about his days on the bomb squad, and had only once spilled the name of his partner, Lee Unwin. When Merlin had retired after several intense years, needing a change before he worked himself into an early grave (and Harry had snapped him up and whisked his best friend into the world of high fashion), Lee had left as well and become a mechanic. "Does that matter?"

Merlin was uncharacteristically squirmy. "Do you think he knows?"

"Well, he hasn't jumped on the table and shouted _j'accuse!_ " Harry pointed out. "And, as you say, you have a memorable name, one he'd recognise if he'd heard it growing up. Maybe his father's as tight-lipped as you are about your glory days." He thought of something then. "How did _you_ not recognise the name _Eggsy_?"

Merlin shot him a dark look. "I only heard it rarely. The rest of the time, Lee talked about his 'little egg' so I had no idea what the lad's name was."

"So what gave him away?"

"He's the spitting image of Lee, only brighter."

"He _is_ very comely," Harry allowed, glancing over at Eggsy, who'd politely moved out of earshot and was occupying himself with his mobile. "Let's put him to work, see what he's capable of."

"You filthy old man," Merlin said, but he was wearing that smile that turned up the far corner of his mouth.

"I was implying no such thing," Harry lied.

"Just — don't offer your help with getting him into your clothes. He looks bright enough to dress himself without you pawing at him."

If Merlin was fussed enough to beg for favours, then Harry would happily oblige him; it had been far too long since Merlin had evinced even an iota of interest in any of the men who'd queued up for him.

*

Harry was filled to the brim with self-righteousness when Eggsy left the changing area to come back to the studio proper, where Merlin had been setting up lights and cameras, because Eggsy wore the _hell_ out of his new line. Everything fit like a dream, and Eggsy's colouring was flattered by the palette of the variants he'd selected, which meant he understood the tones and styles that worked for him, professionally speaking. (Personally, he reckoned that Eggsy could make a bin bag look rather fetching, as the root of the matter was good bones.)

Eggsy had started out with the tuxedo, and rather than the chocolate-brown brocade jacket that Harry had reluctantly imagined Charles wearing — shot by Merlin from the back to emphasise the beauty of the fabric and to hide as much of Charles's objectionable face from the viewer as possible — he had selected the gunmetal-grey velvet jacket and the ink-black trousers with the charcoal satin stripe. The colour and texture of the velvet made it look like water but it sat without a ripple over those broad shoulders. 

Harry heard Merlin's quick indrawn breath at the sight he would get to capture using his talents and felt his smile grow to Cheshire Cat proportions. Merlin certainly deserved some fun with the lovely young man of his choice. Harry would be an extraordinary wingman, he was sure; he'd never got the opportunity to try it out, but how hard could it be?

"You make that look extraordinarily good," he said, approaching Eggsy.

"It's lovely all on its own, bruv, don't need me to make it work." Charming, how sincere he was, trailing his fingers reverently over the lush material.

"And I appreciate that you know how to tie a bowtie properly," Harry continued, already reaching up, "but I think this should be an end-of-the-gala shot rather than a setting-out-for-the-evening shot, don't you, Merlin?" Before Merlin could do more than try to make his eyes into laser beams, Harry had already undone the bowtie and left the hourglass-shaped ends to hang to Eggsy's clavicles.

"Alright," Eggsy said agreeably, and Merlin's mouth snapped shut over whatever objection he might have made. Eggsy unbuttoned the jacket and looked around. "Gettin' ready for bed, yeah?"

"Splendid," Harry said, at his absolute smuggest. He was already heading to the storage area to fetch Roxy's dress again when it hit him that Charles had been the last person to roll around on that bed and had insisted on black silk sheets that complemented neither his colouring nor the wardrobe he was supposed to be modelling. He paused at the stack of bedding, thinking. The grey velvet was already bringing out the sea green of Eggsy's eyes and needed a hue that wouldn't fight against it. He pulled the creamiest sheets from the stack, draped the frock on top, and headed back. Merlin, he was pleased to see, had said something that had got Eggsy laughing, and Harry could see dimples whose existence he had not previously suspected. Merlin was in deep trouble.

He walked briskly over to the bed in one corner of the studio and set his bundle down. In a flash, Eggsy had come over and got to work on one side of the bed while Harry tackled the other; the mattress was bare by the time Merlin came over with a camera.

"I got this," Eggsy said, already shaking out the fitted sheet. "Made a lotta beds in my day."

"Harry," Merlin said, and jerked his head to the side to indicate that Harry should get out of the damn way. Well. He hadn't planned on impeding Merlin's view, and so, slightly offended, he moved to stand by his friend.

Only to have Merlin start prowling like a panther, shutter clicking as he made art of Eggsy billowing the sheet like parachute silks, leaning over so the tie ends fell away from his chest and his trousers went appealingly taut. When Eggsy stretched an arm out to fit the elasticised corner over the mattress, Harry saw a chunky watch on his wrist, a twin to the one he'd seen on Merlin ages ago.

Realising he could make himself useful, Harry rumpled the bed so it looked inviting and then twisted his signet ring off his little finger and held it out to Eggsy. "You seem suited to a spot of domesticity. Wear this on your ring finger," he said, and Eggsy obeyed without a murmur. What a biddable boy — Merlin was in deep, deep trouble. 

When Harry tossed the frock onto the nest Eggsy had made of the bed, however, Eggsy spoke up. "Wait," Eggsy said. "A husband don't gotta have a wife."

Merlin was still capturing Eggsy with his camera, and Harry could see that Eggsy was extraordinarily beautiful even when he was deep in thought, trying to string together the proper words to get his thoughts across. "Meaning?" Harry asked, wondering just how brave Eggsy would prove to be.

"Meaning, I'd have a husband, so you ain't gotta lay that pretty frock there." Eggsy was looking straight into Merlin's lens and Merlin's hands shook a little as he lowered the camera. "That jumper'd do just fine."

He let them have their moment of quiet breaths and shy smiles and then said, "Merlin? A word?"

When Merlin finally dragged himself away from Eggsy, Harry said, "I'm very happy for you, but do finish the shoot before you run off to play husband, please?" Merlin looked too dazed to do more than automatically nod at that, clearly hearing not much of Harry's words, so Harry decided it was safe to taunt him, just a little. " _Jumper loooooove_ ," he crooned, as only the world's best wingman had the right to do.


End file.
